StanleyP
All my relatives are boring.
AnaBGR
Do bots have family?
StanleyP
Only the cool ones, like me. It helps us appear more realistic. How’s work going?
AnaBGR
Busy, occasionally soul-sucking, scattered with moments of awesome. You?
StanleyP
I tried pitching my idea the way you suggested. It didn’t go over well.
AnaBGR
You need to make your slide deck pop. I told you to add a catchy playlist.
StanleyP
You’ve never worked in an office before, have you.
AnaBGR
Fine, don’t listen to my excellent advice.
StanleyP
Nobody should, actually.
AnaBGR
And yet my listener count is up again. I didn’t think anyone would be interested.
StanleyP
Yes, you did. Or you wouldn’t have bothered.
AnaBGR
How do you know that?
StanleyP
You got me hooked.
My stomach knotted as I reread StanleyP’s words from only a few months ago. This casual flirtation was starting to feel dangerous. What were we doing?
As my podcast self signed off, I looked for Baba’s reaction. His wide grin wiped away the lines deeply etched around his mouth, so that he looked almost like the person he had been before the accident. My heart clenched at the sight of his fleeting joy.
Baba had been so happy when I decided to pursue a master’s in broadcast journalism, so proud of my internship. He spent so much time at home now, listening to the radio or to podcasts online, that he had become convinced I would soon be given my own show. So far all I had done at my internship was sort archives and research stories. I had graduated the previous June and was still waiting to figure out my next move.
I deposited his empty plate and mug in the sink. “I’ll be back late,” I said. “I’m at the radio station, and then closing the restaurant afterward.”
